


Lancefaire

by YellowSapphires



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Demonic Beasts, Fluff and Angst, Goddess Tower (Fire Emblem), M/M, Promises, Prompt Fic, Serious Injuries, Suicidal Thoughts, Sylvix Week 2020 (Fire Emblem), no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowSapphires/pseuds/YellowSapphires
Summary: One cannot live without the other. That is what was promise. And a promise that was kept.Sylvain falls ill, and must sit out the next battle despite his position in the army. Felix must fight for the both of them.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 9
Collections: Sylvix Week 2020 Fic Collection





	Lancefaire

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission for Day 5: Promises for SylvixWeek2020! Please let me know what you guys think!

“Drink this.”

“And what exactly is this, Sylvain? Oh.” A light-hearted smile showed itself on his childhood friend’s face. Illuminated with vanilla candlelight, Felix never quite noticed how soft the redhead’s features truly stood out. Tension was common with Sylvain. It stems from the ways he lifts his hands behind his neck when he surrounds himself with the ladies within the monastery and marketplaces. To top it all off, and to seal the deal, Sylvain had aligned himself with the role of insatiable airhead during the professor’s lessons and war meetings. That self destructive behavior… Felix detests it; however, the raven-haired man has never figured out how to approach Sylvain about the topic. Nevertheless, his act can’t fool Felix no matter what he tries to pull out of his sleeves. Evidently though, the kindness Sylvain is sharing now is his true nature blooming.

“Almyran Pine Needles. Thought it might help with all your muscles and stuff from the training regimen.” Pulling the wooden chair out, Sylvain sits next to him, their shoulders barely touching one another. If fate allowed it, the philanderer would allow himself to rest his head on Felix’s shoulder, but... not now. This wasn’t the time to mess things up. Sylvain, admittedly, has messed up and screwed himself over too many times over before. Losing the one person he cherishes and would ride to the edges of the world would be - 

“Thank you. Where’s your cup? You should have some too. Does no one good if there’s one man short, especially a lieutenant general.” A chuckle manages to escape between Felix’s lips as the earthy taste and aroma of the brew gets consumed. Sylvain, not at all into the cooking or baking like the other lions, knew at least how to brew a good cup. Whether that talent was self taught or forced onto him by his family was a mystery. The swordsman gently set down his cup on the plate, and pushed his finished paperwork to the side.

“I’ll be alright. Always have been.” He didn’t intend for the choked, honest whisper. “Plus, I like my brews of tea to have some sweetness to it. Why do you think the professor keeps buying all the bergamot tea the poor merchants have?” He prayed to Sothis or any goddess listening within his mind that Felix dismissed the tone. Oftentimes, prayers that came muttered from Sylvain’s lips sadly weren’t heard. Not that it would be the first time they cut off his pleads for help, heh.

“That’s a lie.” Blunt. ‘Like always’. Sylvain thought to himself. Undoubtedly, he also knew there was no way around it: he can’t flatter or lie out of this conversation. 

“I know.” It was all the redhead could say.

“Are you scared of tomorrow’s skirmishes?” 

“Not for myself, no.” The professor had always kept to a weird schedule. Yes there would be the usual lessons as if they were still in their youth and school days, but they would always have surprises on the weekend after the tasks on Fridays were done. Variations of skirmishes, to lectures, and even to plain ole resting were along the list. As if either one of these two could sit still and be good. Ingrid could vouch for the two of them easily without ever as such hearing their names first. Daydreaming back to these memories, to these moments of peace and serenity, it made Sylvain yearn for something. Though he was academically smart, he never could get his brain wrapped around the idea of what this yearning was for specifically. Sothis, he might never figure it out. Heavily it sat on his chest for days on end, and heavily it sat on his mind.

“You need to take your training seriously. We -"

“We talked about this before. I know,” The redhead gets on the defensive, “I said I would get my act together once my wounds healed.”

“And have they healed?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?” That was the thing. There wasn’t a problem at all. At least, there didn’t appear to be any singular problem. Well... maybe there was one possible problem. Sylvain sighed before he placed his hands to his face, cupping them momentarily.

“You.”

“Me?” 

“Forget I said anything.” Sylvain said softly before attempting to stand up straight away, and doing so too fast made him see speckles of stars before collapsing to the wooden floor. Burning sensations acted enamored to his body as they flowed in waves. An ill or sickening feeling took hold of him now. He had no control over his thoughts or speech, but from what his eyes manage to help him visualize, he must have said something just now to give Felix such a genuine defenseless expression on his face. Was Felix worried? Whether he chuckled physically or if he dreamt of doing it within the safe place in his mind, that was a rich joke.

How is a person’s worth judged? Is it by what they give back? By what they can do? Maybe how well they make the lives around them better or worse? Is it really anyone’s given right to judge another going down different paths or gates to a new future? Sylvain tries to suppress these questions as much as his brain possibly could on a daily basis even, sometimes, physically hurting himself if it meant it took his mind off it. In order to be loved, you have to love yourself. Or so the saying goes.. That was nothing more than filth coming from the privileged. 

Love feels foreign and not just the form of love where you shape your palm and fingers to your lover’s facial features, touch one another’s foreheads, and mutter whispers that have formed in your heart. Many forms of love exist, and each of them bring about a new surprise of pain. Loneliness should not exist when you’re around those you love. The friends you grew up with, the friends of friends, or even family if the connection is there in the first place. There shouldn’t be that vacant space of an emotion there; nevertheless, to Sylvain it had made itself home within the frail heartstrings. 

Nothing but a filthy, dirty philander!

Worthless for someone with a crest…

It would be better if people like that Gautier just killed themselves, right?!

I feel bad for anyone who knows him.

I bet it’s out of pity -

Maybe it was out of pity. The future margrave of the Gautier territories would believe that, and concretely places his beliefs in that statement. His future was set, and chained to the rusted bar of an old birdcage reminded him of his place in an ever-changing world, one that extends further than the aged maps of Fodlan; a world bigger than himself. Fabricating this light and soothing illusion of a freedom with no chain indentions in his skin must have been subconscious. His body wants to stay alive. Sylvain himself wants to die in this cage, the place he feels the most vulnerable. Exposed for the monster, the beast with a crest, that the redhead was and he was ready to die. There was nothing holding him back - 

Promise? 

“Hmm?” Muffled but the voice was noticed. Childish tones? 

Don’t die, Sylvain! I need you! Syl-Syl! You made a promise with me! A pinky promise! You’re not allowed to break it. Glenn said so! 

Syl-Syl? Someone called him that before. Grunts and disoriented groans were all he could call and respond to. Mentions of Glenn...

He pushed you really hard. The bottom of the well sounds like it would be really cold! I don’t want you getting sick! Is your neck okay? Syl…

“Hey, don’t cry. I’ll be alright. Always have been.” The fog within his vision became non-existent. Met with fiery amber eyes, his own eyes widen, “Felix!” 

“You’re alright. I was worried you hit your head too hard, and became more insatiable.” Without giving the redhead any time to react properly, the raven-haired man took off his training gloves and placed the back of his hand gently on Sylvain’s forehead, treating him like he was the most fragile thing to touch, “The fever has gone down, and you’re not getting the frozen chills as often, so that’s a good sign.” 

“Fever?”

“You’re sick, Sylvain.” 

“That’s not it at all,” his mouth instantly gagged with a cold spoon with a slimy liquid. Successions of ragged, sharp nail-like coughs expectly followed after. Felix sighed and placed the spoon next to the stand beside the infirmary bedside. “That was disgusting.”

“It’s medicine. Not exactly made to taste good as long as it does what it’s intended purpose is, which is helping people get better.” Felix placed his hand on the bed, slowly ascending onto the bed and sitting there beside Sylvain, “How are you feeling?” His attention wasn’t directly targeting Sylvain, but just anywhere else in the room, avoiding eye contact. 

“I’m alright. There’s a bit of a lingering heavy feeling, but for the most part, I think I’m alright.” Attempting to sit up more properly wasn’t as painful, but it took longer than need be, “What happened? I mean, for me to end up here?” Growing up with Felix and the other childhood friend gang, Sylvain recognizes all the good and bad habits they all developed over the years. With this in mind, Dimitri would get more aggressive in his training. The monster of an eater, Ingrid, would skip out on meals and drag her boots to the stables to tend to all the steeds. And Felix, well, Felix when he felt overwhelmed with emotion would avoid eye contact like the past plagues of the Kingdom. “If you don’t mind me asking of course. I know, or at least I can remember, you were with me last. I brewed you tea to help you stay awake long enough to finish the paperwork from the other nobles.” Silence filled the room, for what processed for a century though it was mere seconds. Briefly, the end of the bed shifted as Felix had twisted his body to pay attention to the dense friend before him. 

“You fainted when you tried to get up. It’s normal for people to feel light-headed once they stand up too quickly, but you getting up wasn’t the main cause. It was more of an enhancer, if that’s even the right word for it.” Wrinkles of the linen sheets twist and turn beneath Felix’s fingertips, gripping onto them, and anticipating the reaction for what he was about to express, “You’ve been sick, and didn’t tell anyone.” Impulsively, Sylvain tried to sit up more and open his mouth to explain, “Don’t lie. You know it doesn’t work on me. At least, not with your words. You’re flattery won’t work on me. Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick? If this was during battle - “

“But it wasn’t!”

“You irresponsible fool!” Sparks and the static, numbing feeling jolted throughout Felix all simultaneously, sending him to stand up. As a result, the swordsman was now physically pacing back and forth by the bed. Silence fell again, but it wasn’t like a drifting sleep; peaceful and safe at home. “You really are a fool, you know that?” A wavering whisper.

“Felix, I - “ Sylvain’s voice on the edge of cracking, like it was thin ice struggling against the sun’s warm embrace.

“I train everyday so that I would have the strength I need to cut down anyone who gets in my way, to protect… to protect those I love. At least… that’s what Ingrid narrowed it down to.” Sighs narrowly flow between his cracked lips, soon after Felix sat back down but more aggressively, “You know how Ingrid is.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Neither of them knew who started it first, but the two of them chuckled and maybe even giggled together. Guilt forced its way into Sylvain’s throat however, choking him as if it formed their own hands. “Felix, I’m sorry.”

“You really need to take better care of yourself. Even though I train almost daily, I still know my own limits.” Felix spun around so he would show his face, his vulnerability to someone he knew he could trust with his life, “Sylvain, I hope you know that you were the one that taught me how protection is a strength on it’s own. Don’t throw your life away so recklessly, otherwise,” Cracks and ridges pulled the swordsman’s vocal cords as if it was a bowstring, “How can you protect anyone else?” Droplets one by one followed the other down his bare cheeks. 

“Fe?”

“Syl.” Sitting up more properly, Sylvain tugged Felix closer into an embrace, together they weeped acknowledging how death takes their promises seriously.

Though it was a simple skirmish, blood will always continue to shed in battle. Orbs of ignited fire magic race across the plains, bolts of lightning striking down soldiers and bandits at the wrong place at the wrong time, and barrages of steel arrows aim and connect to the enemy’s centers. The Kingdom’s infantry units charge forward in their formations in hopes of intercepting the enemy. Bandits have been pillaging the nearby villages near the monastery, a common occurrence since the beginning of the war instigated by the Empire, by Edelgard herself upon her inauguration as Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, the wilting torch passed onto her by her father.

Before the battle had taken place, all soldiers and other units were to report to the commander, the professor, to account for everything that could and could not be predicted in their eyes. All outcomes must be accounted for. Furthermore, Byleth only wanted those suited and prepared for battle to continue to fight, to have the motivation to march on. As a result, the professor believed it was best for Sylvain to remain back at the monastery where his wounds could be more professionally glanced over and to be evaluated. Hours of protests and heated words were a testament to the future margrave’s spirit and beliefs, but they could not persuade the former mercenary. ‘Remain here.’ Those words branded onto him, as if he was given another crest to bare.

Though they were down a lieutenant general, Sylvain’s troops and battalions were assigned under Felix’s command. Though the main army had the Fraldarius troops within it, they were never seen or assigned to the heir’s leadership, instead being placed under various soldiers with the same or higher authority to lead and predict the outcome, but also control its battalion’s onslaught. The only reason Felix accepted a gambit to lead was because there was no one else left.

The battle had lasted much longer than expected. The main army was used to out speeding the other, tanking hits if it were to be struck like wooden dummies, but this... this was something else entirely. Demonic beasts rampaged throughout the battleground, circling and performing an entrapment on all the soldiers within forest areas. Screeches and roars reached to high octaves, causing nausea and knocking soldiers out right there. Some beasts among the pack were poisonous, infecting soldier after soldier, causing battalions to even abandon their leaders entirely. Felix’s newly appointed battalion had, in fact, been among those who abandoned their army.

“Damn it,” Felix tucks his body closer to the ground, hiding within the bushes to avoid attention. These beasts had thick, leathery skin, almost as if their hides are armor itself. The swordsman was sure that if he could get just one strike in, it would be enough to confuse the beast. But the beast had seemingly sensed such a tactic and launched its own poisonous strike against him. By the second, his body grew weaker, damaging itself in the process, ‘I just need enough distance from that beast to focus on healing..’ Like paper drowned in water, the poison was working rapidly within his body, and getting away seemed almost futile. Without realizing and a lack of paying attention to all that surrounded Felix, an earthquake like attack had shaken the ground, causing him to lose his balance. A different, more fur-textured demonic creature had discovered his location.   
Regaining his balance, he prepared himself for combat against two beasts. He just needed to take out one and make a retreat to heal before taking down the other. The task however sounded nicer on paper than in practice. With his body already giving out, and with the attack just now, he was willing to retreat completely back to the base camp all together. 

With agitation, Felix slid his sword back into its sheath, dodging and attempting to hide within the flora and nature of the forests. The creatures let out their thunderous roars before tracking him down. Though he ran for what felt to him as miles, he did not make it far before the wolf-like beast pounced in front of him, blocking his escape route. The poisonous beast was gaining onto the both, slowly but surely. With sharp coughs and harsher breaths, and his arms too sore to draw his weapon, began to chant the words to control his lighting. ‘Who’s faster? Your claws, or my thunder magic?’ Bright ignitions of blue sparks began to surround his palm, and his body felt a sense of static and energy. The beast huffed, it’s breath blowing the grass and dirt beneath it like wind. The cape upon Felix’s back flew and glided like the flags of Faerghus.

Is time even real? It’s something humans processed; something humans “invented”, but is it real? Countless people near their deathbeds could always on cue recall how time seemed to slow before they were about to die, and yet, some could even recall how their entire life seemed to flash forward as if it was almost being skipped all together, or perhaps, maybe even erased from existence. The beast lunged its body forward, it’s paws unmasking their sharp claws, baring its fangs with the intention to kill, pretending to be a soldier with the mantra of every attack must have the intent to kill. Felix began to dream, ‘I wonder which one Glenn and Father experienced…’ 

“Felix!” Two figures immediately blocked the beast. A scream of pain came afterwards. Visions of crimson blinded his eyes, but the smell of forging iron wasn’t his own. Time felt so slow. Time felt so fast. But there was never enough time.

“...Sylvain?” Shades and hues of red bled through the darkness of the horse’s thin fur, it’s armor pierced and dented. Beneath the war animal that cried in pleads and whines, a body laid ever so still. 

5 years ago.  
The 25th day of the Ethereal Moon

“You still believe in those kinds of stories?” Shoulder to shoulder, the two childhood friends walked up the stairway to the Goddess Tower. The ball was full of cupid-struck folks wanting to dance to their hearts’ contents, melodies of themes flowed through the buildings for them to just be lost in thoughts like waves. “Those are the kind of stories nobles write in their books to give the commoners a fantasy to hold onto instead of facing their reality.” Rumors have spread for years of the Goddess Tower. If a woman and a man go up it and pray to their goddess of a shared dream or dearest wish, it will be made true. 

“I think it’s a nice thought to have. Having your wish granted, I mean. Don’t you have a wish, or maybe a dream you want?” Sylvain glances over quickly, just to get a read on Felix’s face before focusing back onto the flight of stairs. “Sometimes, it’s not bad to ask for guidance or have something to make you feel, I don’t know, valid.” It was an awkward silence the rest of the way upward. 

“Why are you following me up here anyway? I already told you I don’t want to dance with any of the girls.” It was a shame that the training grounds were closed and locked up. Felix made sure too since he shook the door ‘like a maniac’ as phrased by Ashe who witnessed him doing it. ‘Like a maniac’ he says pfft.’ Felix was only just making sure the doors weren’t jammed up or something wasn’t behind it was all. 

“What about...dancing with any of the boys?”

“Huh?” Faintly, hues of pink emerged on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I have no intention of dancing with anybody.” Well, that wasn’t exactly truthful. It wasn’t that Felix hated to dance exactly, but he wasn’t very good with it despite his great footwork in his swordplay. Besides, dancing now during all that recently happened seemed like a waste of time for him personally.

“Oh come on, Felix! Surely you have some interest in dancing. It would be a shame if your footwork was only useful in swords and gauntlets.” Upon reaching the peak of the tower, Sylvain smirked, his cheeks like flower buds, and before long a wide, white smile appeared as he wrapped his arm around the other’s waist, spinning them around, “Why not dance a little bit tonight with someone? You won the White Heron Cup right? I didn’t get to see you dance then, so let me see you dance now. While...we’re still able to spend time with each other.” Moonbeams radiated down through the windows, illuminated the room as if the sun had awoken. With the lighting, it made everything within these mere moments ethereal. Felix’s features seemed to shine through. The tenderness that was underneath the scowls and wrinkles, the softness of his hair, and just...how being him felt perfect.

“Sylvain!” 

“Dance with me!” Without a further notice, the redhead began to lead into a traditional, if you can call it that with his own poor footwork, waltz without music. Though there wasn’t a single string of violin or cello, or even the lower sounds of the viola, it felt as if the orchestra was there playing along to their dance. Now that Sylvain thought more on it though, when did Felix start to dance along?

“Just this once. Don’t speak of it outside of the tower.” Felix said with a gentle, tender smile before intertwining his fingers with Sylvain’s, dancing with him like it was just the two of them underneath this moon. Their foreheads touch one another, being honest to the core with the other. Sylvain’s heart felt on the verge of bursting, like this was too much of a fairy tale to be truly happening. This was too good for the life he was living, wasting it while someone else could have put it to better use. Tears emerged from underneath his eye, and in the moment, words couldn’t flatter for him. Sylvain had to do that himself. 

“Can we make a wish?”

“What would we even wish for?” 

“What about our promise? Let’s wish that-”

“That our promise is kept.” Mud and blood mixed in Sylvain’s hair, his face covered as well. The armour that was once there to protect him was off. His abdomen cut open, almost exposing all of his internal organs. Wrapped around Felix’s arms, this embrace no longer had any feeling to it. That once safe and nurturing sensation was nonexistent. Sylvain was gone, and with him he took his love for Felix. The wolf beast howled in displeasure, but yet felt a sense of accomplishment taking down one of many prey. It was almost smirking, like it enjoyed it.

“I’ll keep our promise, Sylvain.” Felix closed his eyes to the world, and gently placed a kiss on his forehead, before standing up to face the beast, “I love you.” To love and to protect, till death do them part.


End file.
